


Robin

by Moontyger



Category: DCU (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1450348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things between them weren't normal.  She wasn't acting like herself at all and the whole thing was kind of messed up.  But what else was new?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Robin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amathela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/gifts).



She wanted his approval. Wanted, honestly, wasn't even a strong enough word for it; it was something more like craving, maybe even needing – all words Stephanie didn't usually like to apply to herself. Everything about her relationship with him was weird, but the weirdest thing of all was the way he made her feel.

She wasn't the people-pleasing type, not really. Sure, she'd joke about it, but she was a lot more the “I do what I want” type. If she weren't, she wouldn't have been out here at all. She'd still be cowering at home, afraid of her father and what he might do. Or maybe she'd be trying to pretend everything was normal, just like everyone else in Gotham.  (At least, it seemed like basically everyone.)

But it was all different when it came to Batman. He was the big exception to everything. Which was probably just one of those things; it couldn't be just her. More like he was the big exception for the entire city, some kind of local thing, like the fondness for gargoyles in city architecture. It made sense - being that sort of exception for Gotham was kind of the point of being Batman.

The point of this whole line of thought, however, wasn't about that. It was that this wasn't her; it didn't fit her idea of herself at all. Which might explain why she felt so strange about everything, like instead of standing here beside Batman in her new Robin costume, she was somehow watching the whole thing. Watching herself shiver a little, not because she was cold, but because there was so much nervous excitement thrumming through her. She'd finally made it: she was an official part of the family or team or whatever you wanted to call it, not just a hanger-on, the outsider some of them tolerated. She didn't want to mess this up.

“Stay close, Robin,” Batman said and she shivered again. Her reaction to that - to being called Robin by him, in the gravelly Bat voice that wasn't his own, but was the only one she'd ever heard - took her by surprise. That wasn't just nerves, it was more than that: an almost sexual thrill.

The next time he did it, she revised that thought to remove the “almost.”

_This is totally stupid, Steph. He's not even flirting. And you can't feel this way about Batman!_

But telling herself that didn't change a thing. Training, patrol – it didn't matter. Every time she was around him, she ended up flushed, sweatier than she should be, and far too conscious of just how tight her costume was.

She wished she were better at hiding it. She wished she could think he didn't notice. _Tim_ wouldn't have noticed.

But Batman looked at her and even with the cowl and his standard Bat lack of expression, even without being able to see his eyes, she knew he saw right through her. And somehow there was a weird exhibitionist thrill to that, too, like it was humiliating and yet hot at the same time.

Stephanie decided she'd just have to get used to it. Okay, so she got off on being Robin. It was a little weird, but she could live with it. She was definitely never going to do anything about it. She didn't know how old Batman was, but it was older than her by more than just a few years, and she couldn't imagine that he'd ever be interested.

And then he started touching her. Little things, casual sorts of touching and the occasional seemingly accidental brush as he walked or stood too close. A hand on the small of her back, a brush of thighs as he walked by - that sort of thing.  Most of the touches were so light, she was surprised she felt them at all.  Her costume wasn't just for show; it was made to protect her.  These touches weren't knives or bullets; they weren't even punches or kicks. She shouldn't feel any of it.  But then, she'd never had the best relationship with "shouldn't". 

With anyone else, she'd have dismissed it. But Batman didn't make those kinds of misjudgments and he wasn't exactly the touchy-feely type. She wasn't sure what exactly was going on, because he had no reason to play these games either, but she was certain none of it was accidental.

It took her longer than it should have to put it together. He only touched her when she'd done well, like it was some kind of reward for pleasing him. Or maybe an incentive, like training a dog. And that was seriously fucked up; she knew that. On the scale of fucked-upness, it was probably _at least_ a seven, maybe even an eight. You don't train your sidekick like they're a pet!

Even worse was that it worked. She'd been trying all along, but now she tried harder. She practically ached for it, even just his hand on her shoulder. Every time he called her Robin - hell, every time she even put on the costume now - she felt the same sexual thrill as she had the first night. She spent her time as Robin in a state of perpetual arousal and the fact that it was the sort of secret she'd never dare tell anyone only seemed to make her reaction more intense.

And that reaction only seemed to encourage him.  He became blatant about it, bestowing caresses and teasing sexual touches like doctors gave kids lollipops for not crying when they got a shot.  He must have realized she knew, so he stopped bothering with the pretense, but he still never actually _said_ anything about it.

It should have been distracting (and sometimes it was), but it also made her more alert, hyperaware of her surroundings and especially of Batman himself.

It was surprisingly easy to justify, at least to herself. It wasn't outright abusive, she reasoned. He never hit her – well, he never hit her such that she wasn't supposed to avoid or counter the blow. She wasn't afraid of him. Steph had never tried telling him to stop with these games, but she was somehow certain he would if she did. And that was exactly why she didn't say it. She didn't _want_ him to stop. She liked it. Probably that meant she was fucked up, too, but that wasn't news. Normal, undamaged people didn't spend their nights leaping between rooftops or beating up criminals.

It couldn't last; Steph knew that, too. Tension couldn't build forever. Eventually, something would break.

When it finally did, they were on patrol. It was still early, at least for Batman and Robin. They'd just put a crimp in the business of some two-bit armsdealers, but it had become obvious that they were just a tiny part of something much larger.

They were on a nearby rooftop and she was trying to get herself under control, suppressing the excitement that always came with a fight along with the extra thrill that only happened around Batman. Some nights Steph didn't bother; she enjoyed the constant humming along her nerves too much. It was like a permanent natural high. But now they'd have to do an investigation. She was trying, but it still wasn't her strong suit and she knew she needed to focus if she didn't want to let him down.

“Robin. Come here.”

For a moment, she wondered if she were in trouble. Had she made a mistake, one she hadn't even noticed? But even as she wondered, she obeyed - her body moving before she'd consciously willed it to. That was weird, too: she didn't like orders and she wasn't very good at following them. But for him, she tried - at least, most of the time.

She was barely within reach when he grabbed her, shoving her hard against the dirty wall of the roof access stair. Stephanie could feel the bricks even through the armor on her costume and for a second she wondered if she'd been supposed to dodge, but then Batman kissed her and she forgot all about it.

He kissed the same way he did everything else, or at least everything she'd ever experienced when it came to him: demanding, with no hint of hesitation or compromise. She gave herself up to it, kissing him back hungrily, without pause for questions or doubt. She'd been wanting this for months; she was hardly going to push him away now.

He slid his hands down her back until they cupped her butt, then lifted her as though she weighed nothing at all. It made her suddenly conscious of just how much bigger and stronger than her he was. This close, pressed against him, Stephanie felt small. And that wasn't normally her thing either: she didn't like feeling small, at least not in situations where it could so easily mean vulnerable, but she decided right then and there that she didn't care.

She squirmed, rubbing against him and shifting so her skirt rode up and the fingers of one of his gloved hands were between her legs and pressed against her tights, frustratingly close to where she wanted them but not quite there. She felt bold and dirty and entirely shameless trying to rub herself off against him like this. They weren't always alone up here and Stephanie knew that perfectly well. She'd just decided she didn't care about that either.

Batman groaned a little into her mouth and pressed against her harder, keeping her in place with just his weight and the wall she was braced against while he used both hands to pull down her tights.

He slipped one hand back between her legs, stroking and rubbing her aching clit with fingers made both cold and a little clumsy by the gloves, but with enough skill that it was obvious he was way more experienced than the teenage boys she knew.  (It also made her pretty sure he must have done this before, in the costume and all, but she so did not want to think about that right now.) And then he whispered her name – not _her_ name, but the one she used out here, the one that went with this costume and the tradition she was now part of. _Robin._ After months of teasing, always near the edge but never quite over, that was all it took. She shuddered against him, biting her lip to keep herself silent.

If he'd stopped there, she wouldn't have been all that surprised. Not with the way things had been between them, where he teased her relentlessly and she'd found herself unable to return the favor. If he had, there wouldn't have been much she could do; she wasn't entirely sure how his costume even fastened and she still wasn't thinking clearly enough to try to figure it out, or even to pay much attention when he did it.

She did notice that he kept condoms in the utility belt, though. It didn't even surprise her; Batman was prepared for everything.

He wasn't one to ask permission and he didn't now. Except for that one time he called her Robin, he didn't say a word. He wasn't gentle either; he fucked her fast and hard against the wall, hard enough that she'd probably have bruises from the bricks, though once when her head hit with an audible thump, he moved one hand behind it, to cushion the blow. Stephanie didn't mind any of it, though she did find the costume frustrating. There was no bare skin to scratch or bite or even just feel; they were having sex, but she couldn't touch him at all.

When he was finished, he stayed there just a minute, his mask resting against hers. Then he set her down, finally gentle. She held onto him just a minute longer, unsure if her legs would support her, then let him go. Steph wasn't sure how long he'd been holding her up like that, but he didn't show any signs of strain.

She looked away as she adjusted her costume, wincing a little as she put her cold, wet panties back on. She made a token effort to do something with her hair, then gave up. It was always a mess after patrol anyway; this time it would just be for a different reason.

When she looked back at him, it was like nothing had ever happened. He looked the same as he always did: costume unmarked and his expression as stern as ever. For just a moment, he almost didn't seem human and it struck her how strange the situation was. She'd never seen his face; she didn't know his real name. He'd never even taken any part of his costume completely off.

He didn't say anything about what had just happened either. He didn't apologize or say it had been inappropriate. He didn't promise it would never happen again. And maybe more to the point, since she probably wouldn't have believed any of that, he didn't promise it _would_ happen again either. If it hadn't been for the bruises forming on her back and the ache in her thighs, similar but not quite the same as what she'd feel after taking a beating or training just a little too hard, she might have thought it had been a dream.

Batman looked over at Robin and gave her the barest nod. “Let's go. We still have a lot of work to do tonight.”


End file.
